


we do it nice 'cause we do it twice

by babypapaya



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate universe - Mafia, Gen, Guns, Organized Crime, Revenge, Weapons, but not too violent because I'm babie, but they're not sexy just violent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 04:28:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20718092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babypapaya/pseuds/babypapaya
Summary: "For fuck’s sake. Even the Americans have bought in."The Haas family's once-burgeoning expansion to European organised crime comes to a grinding halt when their supplier starts screwing them over. The first step on the new agenda? It's time to make Rich Energy pay up.





	we do it nice 'cause we do it twice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mondaycore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mondaycore/gifts).
  * Inspired by [the last of the real ones](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20647280) by [mondaycore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mondaycore/pseuds/mondaycore). 

_ The reality of his world is not terribly romantic — less Marlon Brando and blood vendettas, more freezing one’s ass off at 2am in a motel off the motorway, hoping those two blundering dipshits that Haas call their best runners showed up this time with the goods and without the whinging. _

* * *

“Jesus _ fuck_,” the man swore. There was steel in his voice, but his feet shuffled on the carpet. “You know that shipment’s not our end of the deal!” He strained to hear, desperate for some response from the man he knew was right in front of him, invisible in the pitch darkness. He would have welcomed anything, even some heavy breathing. Stone cold silence. “C’mon, mate… it’s the suppliers. We can’t fucking deliver goods we _ don’t fucking have_, you’re insane—come on, mate—just one more try, we’ll get the goods this time even if we have to—”

“Fucking amateurs,” his contact spat. “You break in here and think you’re the hottest fucking shit.”

The closeness of the room pounded in Romain’s ears, and he so terribly wished he could see something. He stumbled across the room and fumbled at the wall until hitting a switch. Across the grimy room, a dim light blossomed, illuminating a dump of a motel room. God. He was sure Max picked these shitty dropoff points _ just _ to fuck with him. He was probably getting asbestos poisoning just from standing there. He reluctantly turned back to his contact. “I’m _ sorry _ you’ve been here freezing your skinny ass off, mate, but pick a fight with the supplier,” he groaned, his voice a touch more pleading than he intended. 

“Why?” The syllable was blunt, the dig at his physique ignored. “You chose to work with them, you clean up your shit.”

“God, just—fuckin’—”

“I know. I won’t tell Christian.” Max didn’t need the new light in the room to note the other man’s slump of relief. 

“Thank—” 

“Only next time,” he bit out. Max reached out, curling his fingers around the neck of the man in front of him. He could feel hoarse, short breaths dragging through this—this _ prey’s _throat beneath his fingertips, the pad of his pinkie resting on a pulse. It was embarrassingly quick. He tightened his grip ever so slightly and choked one rasping breath from that night’s failure, and then shoved him away. “But you won’t let there be a next time.” A statement, not a question. 

Max turned on his heel, squinting into the brighter light that hit him as he cracked open the room’s door. He slipped out, resisting a babyish urge to slam the door, and disappeared down the dingy hallway. The smell of musty air trailed him as he emerged into the tiny lobby, feet wearing one more path through an already threadbare carpet, past a dozing night clerk who looked up with the emptiest of eyes. The atmosphere cleared up when he pushed through a limp pair of double doors into the clear night, and he gave the parking lot only the most cursory of scans before heading to his ride. The black sedan was parked underneath the motel’s neon sign, lit up fully this night as always, except for the tiny _ NO _ before the text _ VACANCIES_. This had been Max’s rendezvous point for the district for more years than he’d tell anyone, and he’d never seen that lit.

Max slid into the driver’s seat, pushing a hand through his hair. He’d figure out what to tell Christian later. Haas were new to the scene, their business not important enough yet for any higher-ups to be sticking their noses into. Dealing with the Americans was like… an unglamorous side-job for Max. They were small, they were a fucking nuisance, and Ferrari had a tenuous connection with them. Surprising, for how… _ cultishly traditional _ the Ferrari nature was. The upstart Americans had yet to prove if the word loyalty meant anything to them. But somehow Ferrari was seeing something in them, and for that alone, Max decided it was imperative to get some Red Bull fingers in the pie. He only wished he had the clout to make Marko look at the Mercedes connection with the Stroll family in Canada. 

_ God. Fucking Canadians. What are they even doing, trafficking maple syrup? _

Max pulled out of the lot, stepping on the gas just a bit hard. He’d expected a little more weight in the car when he left, but this shitshow was just the authentic Haas experience. Usually disappointing, but rarely surprising. Except in the variety of ways they managed to disappoint. Jesus. Bunch of fucking _ wankers_. 

**Author's Note:**

> heyyyy this girl has never watched any crime dramas in her life! we're working with 0 knowledge of subject matter B)
> 
> So! The beautiful and talented anonymous author of recent fic "the last of the real ones" granted me permission to write a spinoff of one line from their legendary, game-changing, showstopping Mafia AU fic. This is the result; I've tried to keep the mood of the universe consistent, but the content and character behaviour is from my own head. I don't have too many guts, so don't fear anything too graphic, either in the sexy or violent direction. 
> 
> this is entirely fictional! I own nothing, these are fictional and not serious representations, do not involve anyone in real life, and we'll be peachy <3


End file.
